


Gravitas

by geekmama



Series: Aftermath [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: Sherlock and Molly's wedding, from Greg's POV.Written for Day 3 of Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Theme:Engagement / Wedding. This follows the events inAftermath: The Christmas Album





	Gravitas

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Ellis_Hendricks for the beta read!
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When they arrived at the church, parked the car, and got out into the bright sunshine, Greg couldn’t help muttering to his companions, “God, it’s bloody _freezing!_ ” 

Sally immediately gave him one of her glares, and Phillip Anderson clucked disapproval, though he also said, “January _is_ an odd month for a wedding.” 

“Yeah, still wondering why they were suddenly in such a rush,” Sally agreed. 

“Maybe it’s the usual reason,” Anderson said, waggling his brows a bit. 

But Sally gave a derisive laugh. “Them? Nahhh. Hooper’s too smart for that.” 

Greg’s mouth twisted against a smile, but he kept his own council. The satisfaction of watching the live-action post-Sherrinford sitcom, _Idiots in Love_ , had been a private delight for months and he wasn’t spoiling it by sharing it with his two less-than-discrete colleagues. They’d figure it out soon enough, anyway. 

The three of them joined the other guests that were carefully making their way through the snowy carpark to the doors of the beautiful old grey stone building. Greg remembered how surprised he’d been when he’d received the invitation, just three weeks ago. He’d asked Sherlock about it a couple of days later, after concluding the Hawthorne Case. 

“Got your invite yesterday, by the way, and of course I’ll be there, wouldn’t miss it. St. Mary’s, eh? To please the parents?” 

Sherlock gave a little shrug. “And others. Lends it more gravitas.” 

Greg had nodded, carefully not showing his surprise at this uncharacteristic consideration. Or it would’ve been, a year or two ago. He merely agreed, “It does that. Wouldn’t have thought you could arrange it so quick, what with banns and all.” 

“We had to forego banns, they would had to have been read at St. Mary’s _and_ in the parishes where the two of us reside and I wasn’t having that. Bad enough the engagement was announced in the papers. Fortunately, we qualified for a Common License, since my parents have lived near St. Mary’s for decades. They attend occasionally, and it seems it was enough.” 

“Ah. But why the rush? Thought you’d planned it for May?” 

Sherlock looked blank for a moment, and when he did speak there was a spot of color on each of those prominent cheekbones. “Got a good deal on the wedding trip. Italy and Greece. Molly wants to get out of this cold for a bit.” 

“I see.” Greg nodded sagely, not believing him for a minute. “It _is_ the coldest winter we’ve had in some time. Snow even in London!” 

“Indeed.” 

While Sherlock was flagging down a cab, Greg stuck his hands in his pockets, silently working up the courage to mention the other wedding-related topic that had been on his mind. When one of the black cabs quickly pulled over to the curb, Greg felt he’d better take the plunge. 

“Look, Sherlock, about that _plus one_ …” 

Sherlock turned his cool gaze on Greg. “Yes?” And then he rolled his eyes a bit. “Don’t tell me: you want to bring Donovan.” 

Of course the git could read him like a book. “She’d really like to be there,” Greg said, a pleading note in his voice. “But I’d understand if you’re dead set against it. I haven’t said anything to her yet.” 

Sherlock turned to the cab and held up one finger to indicate _Just a minute!_ to the driver, who nodded. Then he faced Greg, again. “Bring her, if you like. Anderson, too.” 

“Really?” Greg said, surprised and happy. 

“Yes.” Sherlock got a sort of distant look on his face. “They… the situation with Moriarty was… _wasn’t_ their fault. I mean… he played upon their dislike of me, but he wasn’t the only one complicite in engineering the situation.” 

“No, he wasn’t, was he?” Greg agreed, rather wryly. 

Sherlock’s “death” had resulted in near disaster for a lot of people, including Greg himself. Greg knew the whole thing had ultimately been for the greater good, but it had been a difficult time for everyone involved -- and still was, in certain ways. 

Trust issues. 

Sherlock, the central figure in the drama, Greg could readily forgive -- the lad had been through hell and back, far more than any of them. But Mycroft Holmes… that was another story. 

Fortunately the Machiavellian bastard knew how to use his powers for good as well as evil. Greg had been reinstated to his previous rank on the force in fairly short order, in line for promotion as though nothing untoward had ever occurred. Sally had come off fairly unscathed, considering. And now even Anderson was back, after a lengthy leave of absence. 

And then there was the bride. Molly Hooper knew how to keep a secret, he’d give her that. And Mycroft must have really pulled some strings in that quarter when Sherlock was finally revealed to be very much alive. 

Made life interesting, being associated with the Holmes brothers. And soon there’d be a new generation to add to the fun. 

There was no sign of it, though, when half an hour later the music of the little pipe organ swelled and the bride appeared at the church door on the arm of her rather bemused escort, a favorite uncle, probably, as her dad had passed away years ago. Molly might be a little thing, but there was a magnificence about her on this day of days. She was dressed all in velvet and lace, a high-necked, long-sleeved affair that made her look slim as a blade. But maybe there _was_ some hint of what the coming months would bring. She was smiling, a-glow with good health and happiness, and she only had eyes for Sherlock. 

And Sherlock, pale (as usual) but holding up well, couldn’t take his eyes off of her. John was best man, of course, and standing beside him, a bit of a grin trying to break through as he watched his friend’s expression. Both of them looked very sharp in their morning suits, but as Molly reached them, and took Sherlock’s hand, everyone else was cast into the shade. 

There was a _look_ that passed between the two, then, a look that Greg had once upon a time never thought he’d live to see… 

Beside him, Sally made an odd little sound. 

Greg glanced at her. She was biting her lower lip a bit, her eyes glittering, though her expression was stony as ever. 

And Anderson, on her other side, looked so pleased with himself you would’ve thought he’d orchestrated the whole affair for real, instead of just in his imagination. 

Sherlock and Molly turned, still hand in hand, to face the parson. 

Greg pulled out the little packet of tissues he always kept in an inner pocket of his coat and handed them to Sally. She gave a start of surprise and threw another glare at him, but as one tear chose that moment to slip down her cheek, the glare vanished in a grimace of consternation. She muttered “Thanks,” and took the packet. 

And was glad of it, too, when the parson started in, treading the line between solemnity and cheer with the ease of long practice to bring alive the beautiful words... 

 _Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the face of th_ _is_ _congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony…_  

A minute or two in, Greg gave Sally a little nudge with his elbow. “Gimme one of those, will you?” he whispered. 

And Anderson silently held out his hand, too. 

Sally glanced between them, shook her head and handed out the tissues without further comment. 

It was a red letter day and no mistake.

 

~.~

 


End file.
